Sandra Tayler's Blog, page 85

Being Between

For the first time all summer, I find myself between. There is no more work I can do for GenCon and I can’t yet begin post-GenCon accounting. I’ve mailed all the things to ChiCon, but have to wait for Howard to get home before the final preparations. I’ve finished off the house organization projects which got shuffled aside during the crush of other things, and I’ve not yet decided what house project to tackle next. I’ve let go of my summer plans, but won’t embark on school schedule until next Tuesday. I am between. In some ways it is a lovely space, but staying here too long would not be good for me. I like moving forward.

Yesterday I read a letter from a friend where she lamented that every year she intends to plan and prepare better for the beginning of school. Then every year she ends up dealing with the same frantic scramble to get everything done. I read her words and realized that one of my focuses over the past six months is that I’m trying to be less prepared. I live much of my life planning for the future. I’m paying attention to thing I need to do today in order to prepare for events a week, a month, a year in the future. I’ve slowly become aware that the world is full of people who do not do this. I regularly see something coming, stress about it, plan ahead for it, and then move onward; only to find that others hit this same emotional process weeks or months later than I do. Several times I’ve had to straighten out a financial misunderstanding because I’ve paid a bill so early that the recipient mis-filed the payment. I plan ahead. Much of this is my job. I am the one to reserve a hotel room in February so that Howard has a place to stay at GenCon in August. I make sure that merchandise arrives where it is supposed to and when it is supposed to. I create schedules out of nothingness and then remind everyone to adhere to them. I intend to keep doing my job, accomplishing concrete tasks on a think-ahead timeline, but I want to shed all the needless stewing over possibilities.

My kids start school on Tuesday. Beyond reminding myself what the wake-up, drop-off, and pick-up schedule needs to be, I am trying not to think about it. Entering school will expose my kids to new information and people. They will shift and grow in response. Some of that growth will be painful and difficult. Tantrums and meltdowns are coming. I know it. If I sit down to think about it, I could predict what those crises would be, but then I would begin planning how I could respond to these hypothetical crises. After that I can imagine that the child does not like my response and reacts poorly. I could stage an entire melodrama in my head with branching possibility trees, a choose-your-own-adventure of parental stress. Except when school really does start, odds are that my kids will depart from the script in the first five minutes. All my fretting, planning, preparing would then be discarded because we’re going somewhere else. Instead of trying to improve my predictive abilities so I can better plan, I’m trying to trust that I’ll be able to deal with whatever comes when it arrives. Some things are concrete and life will be better if I plan ahead for them. Other things are in flux and I need to leave them alone until they are concrete. Living in flux is where I have to exercise my faith; faith in myself, faith in God, faith in the family members around me. Faith is often hard, I want to be able to predict and plan, as if I could plan life into calmness. Controlling something that is in flux is like trying to grab a fist full of water. I need to learn how to open my fingers, let the water flow past, and wait for something solid to grab.

So I am between, and will be until Monday. I will do the few small concrete tasks which are nearby and then I will endeavor to fill the remaining space with something enjoyable. Perhaps I can make something lovely out of these last few days of summer.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

Sending Howard to a Convention

Wind rushed past the sides of the van as the wheels rumbled down the freeway. Howard and I were on our way to the airport so that he could board a plane to GenCon. He would be gone for a week, I wanted to spend the thirty minutes of drive talking. I wanted to be with him as thoroughly as possible to make up for having to do without him. But I was tired. I cast about in my mind for conversational topics and kept pulling up the equivalent of tin cans and old boots. It wasn’t that my head was empty. My head was over-full with thoughts about the convention he faced, the things which could go wrong, possible ways to address the things which could go wrong, and then further along the causal chain of could-go-wrong clear out beyond the bounds of rationality. I looked over at Howard. He gripped the steering wheel and occasionally expressed frustration with the drivers around us. He was as full of stress as I was, yet the only thing to do was drive Howard to the airport and deal with everything beyond that when it came. We’d spent all morning scrambling with last minute business tasks. This was our chance to shed all that and be Howard and Sandra together, if only we could dodge the business thoughts and talk about something else. I commented on how the smoke from distant fires collects in the Salt Lake valley. As we descended into the valley I peered across to the barely discernible mountain ridge on the other side. Then I sat back and realized that Howard and I had fallen silent again, surrounded by thoughts we weren’t saying. I could feel the edges of business anxiety in my head. I wanted to be chatting and laughing with Howard about something cheerful, but the best we managed was a mellow companionableness as we drove down the road.

Howard hugged me tight before rolling away with his two suitcases, one full of clothes to wear, the other full of merchandise which arrived too late to be shipped. I did not stay to watch him enter the airport, the curb was needed for another farewell. The drive home from the airport was also silent, until the fourth time I had to drag my brain back from a path filled with useless worry. Then I turned on music and sang loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I continued to distract myself until late in the evening because my brain was ready to believe that I’d committed a failure of paperwork which would render Howard’s convention trip into an utter disaster. I fell asleep convinced that I’d be awakened at six in the morning by a panicked phone call.

I woke at eight, no phone call had come. Email gave me a quick note from Howard “Nice hotel and a good night’s sleep. So far so good, off to the convention center in 20 minutes.” He’d successfully arrived using the flight I’d booked. He’d stayed in the hotel that I’d reserved. Neither of these things had resulted in catastrophe, my weight of responsibility felt lighter. All the various preparations I’ve made since last January will either work or they won’t. It is all out of my hands. I am so happy to have it all out of my hands. I’m certain the booth set up brought its frustrations and stresses, but I did not witness them or be stressed by them. Instead I get to see Howard’s tweet at the end of the day “Rocked the booth prep for GenCon today. Planning to totally rock the show tomorrow.”

In comparison with Howard’s day mine is tame. He helped assemble the miniature shop in which he will live and work for the next five days until he disassembles it and comes home. I spent the day putting things in order, building shelves to store t-shirts, stretching out in my spaces. Sometimes when Howard goes on a trip, I sort of gasp with relief and collapse into a pile of post-convention-preparation uselessness. It is a definite “cats away, mice will play” feeling. For the span of time while he is gone, I can take more time off of work. Sometimes it worries me that I feel relief to have him gone. Then there are other times when I miss him terribly and can’t go to bed before early morning because the house feels wrong without him here. Today I went about my work and in the quiet spaces I missed Howard in a quiet way. My meanderings kept carrying me back to the kitchen and the flowers he bought for me on Monday because Monday was a rough day. Then I discovered the treat he hid for me to find. I’ll be glad when Howard can come back home to relax with me. Though it is going to be several weeks more before that occurs.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

Mind and Body

Hi! I drank caffeinated soda this morning. Can you tell I’m on caffeine, cause I can totally tell I’m on caffeine. I can tell because the clouded and lethargic thoughts of yesterday have turned into the sharp, focused, and highly distractable thoughts of today. I chose caffeine this morning because Howard leaves for GenCon in just five hours and yesterday I accomplished none of the preparatory tasks I was supposed to complete. Some of that was because of pre-convention stress and denial, but the larger part was something physiological. There is a bug which has mowed down Kiki, Link, and I. Link fell asleep while playing a video game and stayed asleep for the next sixteen hours. Kiki and I did not fall asleep, we just felt like going to sleep, or like crying about everything. We’re sick. It will pass. Unfortunately I have to fulfill my role as talent wrangler and business manager before I can collapse into sleep for sixteen hours like Link did. So I am medicating myself with caffeine in the hope that I can consolidate my limited energy for the day into a small enough time span to get the necessary work done. After that, I’ll collapse into a heap and watch movies for the next day or two. This is the theory, thus far my brain on caffeine has scampered like a squirrel across the necessary tasks, but has also darted all over the place composing parts of blog entries (such as this one), done math to figure out how old my kids will be in 2020 when WorldCon may take place in New Zealand, contemplated a major clothing sort, planned how to repaint my bedroom, and made a list of things to do today. At least I’m moving, which is an improvement over yesterday, but it does highlight the connection between mind and body wellness.

This time last year I experienced a major physiological and psychological event. I had a panic attack during the Hugo ceremony. The experience threw me out of balance, or rather, it demonstrated in a not-to-be-ignored way how out of balance I had been for a long time. I’ve spent much of the last year trying to find the hundreds of small ways that I’d pulled myself out of kilter and to set myself to rights. The process has been slow and has required me to rearrange my physical spaces in order to figure out my emotional spaces. I’ve had to isolate stresses and determine why they are stressful. I’ve deliberately shaken up my usual patterns of behavior and thought, making a River Song journal, maintaining a Pinterest board, eating new foods, going new places. Then I watch my reactions to these new stimuli to see if they will lead me to hidden pockets of grief which have been driving my behaviors. I’ve learned that my body will tell me when I am stressed even if my mind is too busy to notice. When my teeth ache, it is because I’m pressing them together subconsciously while sleeping or doing other things. I do that when I’m carrying suppressed stress. This means that aching teeth is a sign that I should stop and dig around in the back of my brain to see what else is going on. There are other physical signs, I’m actually kind of amazed how accurately various kinds of stress manifest as different aches or strains in my body. Paying attention to my body teaches me things about myself.

The life benefits of good diet and exercise are commonly known. There is, naturally, much argument about the definitions of “good diet and exercise.” This is because bodies are different and the perfect diet for one person is not ideal for another. Some of my experimentation in the past year has been figuring out what forms of nutrition to which my body best responds. I’m also observing how stress changes my food cravings, or perhaps eating poorly alters my stress levels. I’m still not certain of the causality. I just know that times of high stress correspond with high chocolate and ice cream consumption. When I am stressed my nutrition deteriorates because I’m less able to spend extra energy planning healthy food. Stress shuts down the food planning circuits in my brain. This means I need to create some optimally healthy for me default meals and turn them into brainless habits during times of lower stress. I think my ideal diet is lactose free, lower carb, and reduced sugar intake. When I’m on this diet I think more clearly. When I’m exercising regularly, this is the diet I crave. Mind and body feed back into each other so that everything either falls apart or works smoothly. I fall into bad patterns and haul myself out of them over and over again. Though, hopefully, my pattern cycles are actually a spiral where I am gradually bringing myself to a healthier place for both mind and body.

I’ve often wished I could separate body chemistry from my ability to think. I usually lament this when I’m dealing with an excess of emotion due to thyroid imbalance or hormonal fluctuations. I can’t separate them. Everything is entwined, which makes change difficult and complex. All I can do is pay attention to the things my body tells me about my mind and vice versa. I can make sure that I don’t try to use a short-term emergency fix, like caffeine, as a long-term solution. And with that thought, I need to take my distractible squirrel brain and apply it to the problem of putting the appropriate clothing and supplies into Howard’s suitcase.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

Parenting Then and Now

When my kids were little it was my job to figure out what they needed and provide it to them. Once they hit the teen years, what they need is to know how to figure out what they need and then figure out for themselves how to go get it. In theory this gives me less to do, but the emotional reality is that watching someone struggle and having no useful way to help is hard.

No one is actually struggling this morning, but a piece of my brain is convinced that they will be as soon as school hits.

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Conversations with My Kids

Kiki was very animated as she detailed the plans her friends have for a post-high-school-graduation trip to Disneyland. Her description had all the earmarks of a sales pitch. I could tell that she was framing the projected trip to be a safe and well-planned as possible. She wanted permission to go. She finished and waited with bright eyes for my answer.

“You’ll be eighteen next May, whether or not you decide to go on this trip is really up to you.” I said. “But you’ll have to fund it yourself.”

It was a quiet sentence, one I hadn’t anticipated before hand. When the words were out of my mouth, I felt the truth of them and was startled not to have a stronger emotional reaction. Next May Kiki will be legally an adult. Contemplating it doesn’t feel scary, because it is only a small step from where we are already. She’s an amazing person.

Link was asked to give a talk in church, which is something that he dreads. He and I discussed this at length and I tried to help him identify the feelings he’s filled with lately. His emotional repertoire has tended toward sullen and angry of late. He recognizes this and doesn’t like it, but isn’t sure how to make it stop.

“You realize we couldn’t even have had this conversation six months ago?” I asked. “I’m actually really impressed with you right now.”

A hint of a smile quirked the corner of Link’s mouth. The remainder of the conversation was not smooth and did not end in sunshine and puppies, but at least he heard those words. He was less pleased with words about weak things becoming strong and the fact that Moses wasn’t a great public speaker either. Perhaps he’ll never give another talk in church, but I fully mean for him to be able to self-spectate the reasons why.

Long ago I wrote a blog post where I looked forward eagerly to having adult conversations with my kids. Here I am. It isn’t always easy, but it is pretty awesome.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

Clearing My Head of Shirts and Shows

The last of the pre-ordered shirts went out this morning. Now I only have regular orders to fill. I’m glad to have the work. I’m also glad to be sending things out of my house. During the moments when I was too physically tired and brain dead for t-shirts I noodled around on Netflix and ended up watching a couple of episodes of Hoarders. I found the psychology involved fascinating, both the revealed motivations of the hoarders and my own psychology as I watched. I came away wanting to organize and de-clutter my whole house, which I suspect is a common reaction. Hoarders is fascinating in part because it is a magnification of things I do all the time. My house gets cluttered and messy. I don’t always clean it up quickly. I stack boxes in corners until I have time to deal with them. However I’m also aware that there is a fundamental difference. I am not a hoarder. I’m more likely to get rid of something and need it later than I am to keep something I’ll never use. My spaces get messy, particularly when I’m in the midst of a project, but then I clean it all up to make space for the next project.

In happier viewing, I watched Captain America: The first Avenger. I’ve seen it before, but this re-watch made me realize that I’ve crossed the line over into being a Captain America fan. I need to see Avengers again. I also watched Mirror Mirror for the first time. I really liked it. It was lovely, occasionally clever, and interesting. My feminist brain was not quite sure what to make of it, as the text of the film had messages of female empowerment, but Snow White herself was self-effacing and submissive through much of the film. I’ve decided to take the submissive aspects as a deliberate character choice rather than a social statement. Even a shy girl can learn to be strong and do it in a way that does not change her into someone else.

Having cleared my brain from shirts and shows, hopefully I’ll be ready next week to prep kids for school, ship the last of the merchandise to WorldCon, put Howard on a plane for GenCon, and (hopefully, maybe) open up my writing thoughts so that I have an answer for the question “What are you planning to write next?”

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

A Visual on the Invasion of Shirts

Pretty much every flat surface in my family room is covered in shirts.

And that is only counting the Scorch Marks shirt. Most of the Tagon’s Toughs shirts have been stowed elsewhere, except for a few which are destined to go into packages later this afternoon.

“Elsewhere” is currently located in my office until I get the storage space reconfigured to allow for shirts.

Those big white boxes are full of folded shirts. Next I get to begin the part of this shirt invasion that I really like, which is sending all these shirts to their new homes. Time to print some postage.

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Shirts take over my life

My day has been all about t-shirts and making five dozen little judgement calls about what to ship, how to ship it, and when to ship it. The fried brain situation is not helped by the fact that I’m actually managing four different t shirt priority streams. There are the shirts which have been pre-ordered and need to go into the mail as soon as possible. Then there are the shirts which need to go to GenCon. Similar quantities of shirts need to ship to WorldCon. I also have to sort stock for my storage room so that we have ongoing inventory. This means that I need to reorganize my storage room so that I have room for the shirts, water bottles, and shopping bags. New shelving may be required, but I have to finish clearing out mess first. Each of these different priority streams vies for my attention and as a result I often feel a bit frozen. I keep having to walk away from all of it to clear my head. So I go eat, or read, or watch fifteen minutes of a show until my brain pops up with: Do This Next. Then I get up and do that thing. Hopefully it leads smoothly into the next thing and I can keep going. If not, I’m stopped again. I’m watching Captain America in very small pieces.

I think I’ve finally got all the shirts sorted and arranged. This is good, because tomorrow the next shipment of t-shirts arrives.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

Disengaging the Mommy Radar

I do not want to be that mom, the one who hovers and is unable to let go. Yet my mommy radar is jangling in my head with pre-alarm signals. I dropped a child off this morning and I have not yet picked her up. She is off the grid and I can’t check to make sure that she is safe. I’d managed to disengage the radar, assigned Gleek to Safe at Camp status, but then she called home. She had a headache and a stomach ache. Both are likely the result of the fact that she did not sleep well last night and is suppressing nerves about camp. I now wish I’d taken time to sit with her last night, helped her get to sleep. Instead I just gave her reassurance over the phone and suggested that she get some rest. She sounded sad as she hung up the phone. They’ll call me again if there is any real cause for alarm. She is fine and well cared for, but now my mommy radar won’t shut up. I don’t want to be the mom who suffers because she is worried and can’t let go. I just wish there was a way to recalibrate the part of my brain which keeps getting alarmed because I can only count to three kids home safe instead of four.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.

Prayer, Scriptures, Church, and Parenting

For someone who believes in prayer, it is amazing how often I forget to use it. I believe that God listens to my prayers and answers them. I also believe that when I pray on someone else’s behalf that my prayers have an effect, even though my logic brain is stumped to explain the mechanics of exactly how it works. I know for sure that when I pray it changes me; my internal landscape alters, calms, shifts and I step away with a clearer view of what is and what needs to be next. Sometimes the changes to my internal landscape unlock floods and rivers of inspiration which wash through me. Other times I realize that God has been waiting very patiently for me to ask before helping me. I’ve seen all of this over and over in my life. Yet I’m usually fairly well established in my stress or crisis before I think to apply prayer to the problem. I need to be better about that.

There are other religious observances which I also neglect such as daily study of scriptures. Somehow it gets lost in the middle of everything else and I don’t even think to miss it until it has been absent for weeks or months. Every time I put it back, it fills my soul. I find greater reserves and strength for managing everything else in my life. It is exercise and good nutrition for my spirit, yet it fares about as well in my schedule as exercise does.

Fortunately I have weekly church attendance to nudge me and remind me of the importance of prayer and scripture study. It is like a regular appointment with my personal trainer, the day when I have to account for my choices during the prior week. Sometimes I slouch into the appointment resentfully, knowing that I’ve been lacking. Yet I’m not scolded there, just encouraged, reminded, nudged. And on days like today, when I’m feeling a bit cracked open and raw, I am healed. My spiritual practices bring me closer to my loving Father in Heaven who only wants me to grow and is sad that sometimes the growth process is painful. I can sympathize with that today as I look forward to this coming school year and know my kids have some difficult emotional terrain ahead. I keep forgetting that Howard and I do not have to do this alone. My Father in Heaven is also there for my kids and when I remember to apply prayer to our challenges, miracles happen.

Comments are open on the original post at onecobble.com.